


The Choices We Make

by flibbertygigget



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:59:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8191087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: "What's the catch?" McCoy said. "I don't know how many times y'all have been abducted, but normally psychopaths don't let you go just because you ask 'em nicely.""Of course, our experiment cannot be put on hold. If you choose to opt out of it, another will have to take your place." Or: McCoy and Spock are abducted and tortured. McCoy is forced to make a choice.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Выбор](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10491981) by [Chmonder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chmonder/pseuds/Chmonder)



McCoy shifted, wincing slightly as the too-tight ropes chafed at his wrists. He really shouldn't have been so used to the idea of being tied up, he thought. Most CMOs of starships weren't, and it annoyed him to no end that of all the starships in all the quadrants trouble seemed to always walk into theirs. Still, at least he wasn't alone this time.

"Spock," he whispered, unsure if their captors were nearby or if the Vulcan was even awake. "Damn it, Spock, talk to me."

"What ought I say, Doctor?" McCoy relaxed slightly. Spock's voice was tight, but it wasn't too emotional or too emotionless. If anything, the damn fool seemed annoyed by their situation.

"Well, we're both alive, at least," McCoy muttered. "Now all's we have to do is find a way out of here." Spock drew in a breath as though about to answer, but before he could the door opened and light flooded the cell. McCoy squinted, wondering who it was who had decided that capturing them was a good idea this time.

"They are awake." The two aliens weren't any species that McCoy recognized. They were tall enough to have a good head on Spock. Their bodies seemed too thin and long, as though they had been stretched out somehow, except for their bulbous heads that were three-quarters eyes.

"Yeah, we are," McCoy said. "Now, would you gentlemen mind tellin' me why the devil you've kidnapped us?" The aliens ignored him, instead stepping into the cell and making a beeline for Spock. "Hey, I'm askin' you a question!"

"Your questions are not our concern," said one of the aliens, giving him a withering glance. "You will be silent."

"Like hell I will!" McCoy struggled to his feet. "I don't know if you've realized this, but y'all'll be in hot water once the Federation finds out what you've done." That got the aliens' attentions. They turned toward him in spooky synchrony, giving him identical pitying looks.

"Do you truly believe this?" one asked. "Your Federation will not find you here." The simple way they said it, as though it was a fact that could not be disputed, sent a shiver down McCoy's spine. Then the aliens looked at each other and nodded. "You shall be our subject."

"Subject for what?" McCoy said, hoping that he sounded defiant rather than scared shitless.

"For an experiment, if you will," the alien said, "as to whether the faith that you place in morality and human nature is warranted." Spock looked alarmed, or at least as alarmed as he ever looked. "We believe that you will prove an interesting subject." McCoy set his jaw as they led him from the cell. Whatever happened, he would not scream.

* * *

 

Doctor McCoy had be absent for 3.784 hours before the screaming started, so abrupt that it caused Spock to jump. He was not surprised that the Doctor had given in, only that his calculation had been off by 1.052 hours. He had underestimated McCoy. Spock stared at the door, but no matter how he tried he could not slip into even the lightest of meditation. The Doctor's screams pierced through any trance in an instant.

2.996 hours after the screaming started, it ceased. Spock's muscles tensed, and they only relaxed when the door opened and he saw the Doctor strung bonelessly between the two aliens, battered but very much alive. Even as he internally scoffed at the distinction (one was either alive or one wasn't, to be 'very much' alive was illogical), he began to catalogue what injuries he could from a distance. They were... extensive.

Finally, the aliens left. Spock rose, approaching the Doctor with care, uncertain of how his help or concern would be received. The closer view confirmed what he already knew. The torture had been brutal.

"Spock...?" McCoy's voice was soft, breathless, and hoarse from the screaming.

"I am here, Doctor," Spock said. McCoy rolled over, groaning slightly, but when his eyes met Spocks they seemed full of relief.

"Well, they sure... did a... number on me, eh Spock?" Spock raised an eyebrow at the understatement.

"Indeed," he said. He began to examine McCoy carefully, but he hardly knew where to begin. Everywhere he looked there seemed to be another injury, each more serious than the last. "Would you care to lend me your medical expertise, Doctor?"

"There ain't much in the... the way of supplies here, Spock." McCoy's accent was thick, slurred. Concussion, Spock reasoned. Wordlessly, he began to rip strips from the bottom edge of his uniform. "Hey! What're yah doin'?"

"I am endeavouring to improvise bandages."

"Yah need that shirt. It's cold in here for a Vulcan." Spock's eyebrow rose again, but he didn't stop tearing his shirt or binding the worst of the Doctor's wounds. "Damn stubborn Vulcan. I'm tryin' to-" McCoy cut himself off with a deep cough. A few drops of blood splattered the ground.

"Doctor, I believe that I am not the one who you should be concerned for at the moment," Spock said. McCoy blinked slowly, staring at the blood that he had coughed up uncomprehendingly. Spock reached out to touch McCoy's wrist, but he could feel only shock-numbed pain. "You should rest." McCoy nodded weakly, and that more than anything attested to how greatly he had been injured. Spock had expected for the Doctor to argue.

Spock sat back against the wall, preparing to slip into a light meditation for the night. It would do him no good to be exhausted, but neither would he leave McCoy defenseless overnight. This was his duty for now.

* * *

 

McCoy didn't know how the hell the pain had gotten worse overnight, but somehow his body had managed it. As soon as he woke he wished that he hadn't bothered, and he couldn't stop from crying out. A cool hand grasped his wrist reassuringly, and McCoy forced his eyes open. Spock was there, staring steadily at the door.

"There has been no sign of the aliens, Doctor," he said. McCoy began to nod, but when the motion made it feel like his brain was bouncing off the sides of his skull he decided not to do that. "I checked your bandages approximately one hour ago and found no signs of infection."

"Well thank heaven for small mercies," McCoy muttered.

"Indeed." For a moment it seemed as though Spock would continue, but then the door opened and their hosts appeared. McCoy tensed, he couldn't help it, and he felt the grip on his wrist grow almost imperceptibly tighter.

"We did not expect you to regain consciousness so soon," one of the aliens said.

"Sorry to disappoint you," McCoy said. He could almost hear Spock's disapproval - 'it is not wise to provoke them further' or some such bullshit.

"We are not disappointed. This makes our course much easier." That didn't sound good at all. "Today we are giving you a choice."

"And what is it?" McCoy said. The aliens glanced at each other, nodding slightly.

"We wish to respect your wishes," said one. McCoy snorted in disbelief. "Therefore, we are prepared to allow you to opt out of the experiments if you so desire."

"That's it? I just say 'no' and you won't torture me?"

"Yes." McCoy glared at them.

"What's the catch?"

"The catch?"

"Yeah the catch! I don't know how many times y'all have been abducted, but normally psychopaths don't let you go just because you ask 'em nicely."

"Of course, our experiment cannot be put on hold. If you choose to opt out of it, another will have to take your place." Spock's grip felt like it was about to break his wrist, which would be the icing on top of everything else that had happened.

"You goddamned-"

"We will give you an hour to consider." With that the aliens were gone as quickly as they had come, but Spock didn't loosen his grip on McCoy's wrist.

"Doctor-" he began.

"Absolutely not, Spock," McCoy snarled. "There is no way in hell that I'm leavin' you in the mercy of those - those bastards."

"Doctor, as a Vulcan I am more physically capable of withstanding extreme conditions, and with my greater mental discipline I will not break under the psychological strain of torture. Therefore, it is logical-"

"Hang that! Do you want us both to be like this? Is that logical?" McCoy tried to steady himself. "At least if I go back in there, we've got a chance. You can escape, or make a communicator out of whatever, or - or somethin'." Spock didn't answer. "Besides, it - it ain't like it can get much worse. I know what their game is now; that'll make it easier I expect."

"I cannot concur," Spock said softly, "but the decision is not mine to make, and I doubt that any order I could give would do anything to sway your mind once it is made up." McCoy managed a painful chuckle.

"Damn straight," he said.

* * *

 

For the next 129 hours, the aliens kept to a predictable schedule of 12 hours of torture, 12 hours of respite. It was, therefore, both unexpected and disquieting when one of them returned to the cell within the usual period of torture without McCoy.

"Where is Doctor McCoy?" Spock said, rising to his feet.

"Your presence is required," the alien said, ignoring his question.

"Where is Doctor McCoy?" Spock repeated, his voice tight with control.

"Your questions do not concern us." Spock was lead out of the cell and into a white, featureless hallway. Every turn revealed a new, identical hallway, but nevertheless Spock carefully noted every twist and turn. Finally they came to a door. The alien pressed his hand to the door and it simply melted away as though by transporter. When Spock saw what the door had concealed, he was forced to close his eyes for a moment.

The plain white room was streaked with red. In the center was Doctor McCoy, shaking and curled as though to protect himself. The second alien stood over him, staring at him clinically, but when Spock and the other alien entered the second looked up.

"Good. You are here." McCoy flinched, eyes jerking upward to meet Spock's.

"No, no, wait!" he shouted. "I'll do it, damn it, I'll-"

"You have already chosen to forgo this stage of the experiment. We told you that we would respect your wishes."

"Well I'm tellin' you differently now, ain't I?" The alien tilted his head.

"Interesting," he said. "What was it you wished for me to do again?" Spock could not help the revulsion that coiled in his gut. To force McCoy to act as an instrument of his own torture was... almost unbelievably cruel.

"I - I want you to h - have sex with me." Spock tried to take a step forward, for what purpose he did not know, but the alien's grip was tight.

"Doctor, this is unnecessary," he said. McCoy looked anywhere but into Spock's eyes.

"Don't, Spock. Just - Just don't, please. I can't-"

"This is your decision?" the alien said. McCoy nodded. "Words."

"Yes, yes it is."

"Doctor." Spock could do nothing but watch, unable to help, unable to even reach out and bear some of McCoy's mental pain. The temptation to look away was great, but he could not allow it. He owed it to the Doctor to at least be a kind of witness, to not let him go through it all alone.

* * *

 

McCoy couldn't even look at Spock when they were dumped back in their cell. Oh, Lord, he'd almost made Spock go through that. He'd almost broken, almost betrayed the Vulcan in the worst way he could imagine.

"'m sorry," he muttered. "'m so sorry, Spock, I-"

"Apologies are illogical, Doctor." It must have been his imagination, but Spock sounded pretty damn distressed, which for him meant that the end of the universe was about to start.

"I almost - I almost-" Cool fingers brushed over his temple, and McCoy finally forced himself to look into Spock's eyes.

"Doctor, if you would allow me to perform a mindmeld, I believe that I could... lessen the mental strain for a time." Normally, McCoy would never want anyone poking around his head, but now... now he would resort to anything to be able to look in his own mind without freaking out.

"Are ya' sure you want to look in there?" he said. Spock didn't answer, pressing his fingertips to McCoy's psi points gently.

"My mind to your mind... my thoughts to your thoughts..."

The meld was light. It reminded him of the time when his dog got his leg broke, and McCoy had had to approach him carefully so as to not have him damage the leg further. He reached out, and the meld grew deeper. The hurt and pain was... not swept away, not really, but numbed, like a local anesthetic that couldn't quite reach down to abused bones. Still, it was far better than before, and it was easy to slip away into a restless sleep.

* * *

 

Spock stared relentlessly at the door. A plan was beginning to form in his mind. Though he would usually prefer to wait until he had more information and a less nebulous plan, the mindmeld had confirmed what he had already suspected - McCoy didn't have much longer before he would be irreparably broken. One, maybe two more sessions of torture would do it, especially if the aliens continued to increase the barbarism of their methods. He could not allow this to continue.

He brushed McCoy's fingertips, just long enough to gauge his emotional state. His mind was painful to touch, but Spock would not allow his own mild discomfort to prevent him from doing what he could to help the Doctor.

3 minutes, Spock estimated. McCoy shifted, already acclimated to the aliens' schedule. Spock gently pressed his psi points and urged him back into unconsciousness. His plan, such as it was, would be easier that way, without the Doctor arguing against it every step of the way.

When one of the aliens entered again, intent on taking McCoy, Spock didn't hesitate. The nerve pinch brought the alien down, but of course, that was what McCoy would call "the easy part." Escaping the facility they were in would be much more difficult than escaping their cell.

Spock raced down the identical white hallways, McCoy in his arms. He had no idea where the exit was, but logically he supposed that the room where they had performed their experiments on McCoy would be near the center of the facility, so he decided to get as far from that room and their cell as possible.

The whole building was eerily silent. Their captors, whoever they were, had to be aware of their escape, but there were no alarms, no sign that a search was being conducted. Either the aliens were somehow unaware that they were on the loose, or they had no reason to think that they would be successful. Spock pushed those thoughts from his mind. Conjecture was illogical, at least here, when McCoy's pained breaths attested to how much he needed medical attention. Spock could not change their circumstances through any action other than that he was taking. It would have to be enough.

Finally they reached a wall that, though it was like all the others, afforded no new hallways in the direction that Spock had chosen. It was an outside wall, it had to be. Spock began to follow it, searching for a doorway out. When he found it, he shifted McCoy so that one of his hands was free, and he tried to open the door as he had seen the aliens do.

The door did not open.

"You are not permitted to leave." Spock turned around, arms tightening around the Doctor. The aliens stood, blocking the hallway behind him. Instantly his mind began to sort through possibilities, but there was no way out. With McCoy in his arms, he couldn't use the nerve pinch, and nor did he have any hope of outrunning the aliens now. There was only one thing he could do.

"What do you want from us?" Spock said.

"You know what we wish. You are an experiment."

"There is no practical purpose for this," Spock said, carefully turning and lowering McCoy to the ground, not taking his eyes from the aliens.

"On the contrary, we have learned much of the nature of your Federation," said one of the aliens. "For example, we have learned that you are much more cooperative when we are threatening your colleagues. A pathetic flaw."

"I quite agree," Spock said. The aliens looked surprised. "Had the Doctor listened to logic, he would have allowed me to take his place."

"Ah. You have the same weakness. We did wonder."

"On the contrary," said Spock, "Doctor McCoy would no doubt inform you that I am cold-blooded, unfeeling, and above all logical. The simple fact is that it was not logical for the one of us with greater medical expertise to be more injured when there were other options."

"That is hardly a concern now," said the alien. "You will give us back our test subject."

"I will not." The aliens looked at him quizzically. "Illogical though my friend's actions may have been, I am grateful that he gave me the opportunity to attempt this, at least." With that Spock launched himself forward. It was a desperate move, an illogical move, but nevertheless it was their only chance, and didn't that make it logical? He subdued one alien quickly, but the other pulled out a short rod and pointed it at him.

"You will cease your attack," he said. Spock only hesitated for approximately 0.67 seconds before continuing. A bolt of electricity shot out from the rod, hitting him square in the chest, but it was already too late for the alien. He managed to reach out and subdue the alien with a nerve pinch before falling to the ground in pain.

From his position on the ground, Spock could see the Doctor coming to. It was of little concern. The aliens would be out for at least 2.36 hours, and in that time he could recover and use one of them to open the door to freedom.

"Spock?" McCoy sounded upset. Spock should endeavour to reassure him.

"You are safe, Doctor," he said.

"And you? You're-"

"I am well." Spock forced the corners of his mouth up into what he hoped looked like a reassuring smile, though judging by McCoy's panicked reaction it was not. "We are safe."

* * *

 

"Doctor McCoy."

"Spock." McCoy fiddled with the hem of his uniform, scowling into the middle distance. Spock, as always, appeared unruffled.

"You have been released from sickbay, I presume," Spock said. McCoy nodded. "Can I help you, Doctor?"

"How-" McCoy's scowl deepened. He hated doing this, asking for this, being so damn weak. "I just - I need your help, Spock. I haven't slept since all that, and sedatives haven't been doin' nothin'."

"I see." McCoy could have imagined a flash of anger or maybe concern in Spock's eyes. "Come in." McCoy stepped into the room. Though most humans would have found the temperature uncomfortably hot, to him it was almost comforting. Spock's quarters were nothing like that cold white room. Hell, if he closed his eyes he could've imagined that he was back at home on a lazy Sunday afternoon. All that was needed to complete the illusion was some sweet tea.

He opened his eyes. There was no Georgia sunlight, no sweet tea, only Spock, studying him like he was a damn soil sample. McCoy cleared his throat awkwardly and sat. Spock sat across from him, gaze still intense.

"You are not well," Spock said.

"I don't know about you green-blooded bastards, but it takes us humans a while to deal with this kind of shit," McCoy snapped. He was beginning to regret coming.

"You are not well," Spock repeated, "but you will be." Something about the way Spock said that, like it was a logical, irrefutable fact, made McCoy simultaneously relax and curl in on himself.

"How, Spock?" he said, voice cracking. "How the hell am I supposed to - I can't even think about it without feeling like I'm back there, like they're - they're-" Spock's cool hand rested on his wrist, and McCoy felt himself crumbling. "Goddamnit, I can't-"

"You will."

"How the hell can you say that? How can you just sit there and - and act like nothin's changed when the world's gone to hell in a handbasket and we're bein' tossed around in it?"

"Because I know you, Doctor," Spock said. "I know your mind. I am not saying that there will not be... setbacks, but in the end I believe you will recover." McCoy choked out something that was half laugh and half sob.

"Don't talk, Spock. Just - just stay here. I can't do this all on my own. No matter how illogical I get, you've gotta-"

"I will not leave you," Spock said. "It would not be logical to abandon our CMO, even if only to his memories."

"Well, as long as helpin' me is logical, I suppose," McCoy said, trying for sarcastic, but his voice sounded more relieved.

"It is indeed," Spock said. "There is nothing in the teachings of Surak, Doctor, that discourages Vulcans from assisting their friends."


End file.
